It's not helpful to think about it as shopping; imagine it rather as an interpretive dance of the self-checkout. It starts at the level of user experience. Placement of palm trees. Rewind a stage: why does it need to be palms? If you form avenues of poplars; you're in the realm of Böcklin. And how might you rebrand the Isle of the Dead? Put some palms front and centre, and it becomes Paradise Island. It all hangs on good botany.
The immersive strata of the customer's journey doesn't explain transitions. The fantasies are not located in any sort of spatial relation to each other. It is more that space is an emotional referent: is it a distant horizon? A mountain range? An orange grove? A paradise island?
Can you smell the citrus?
There must be no sense of time, or the movement of time, outside of the experience. The out of body layer of the simulation must continue exactly as long as it takes to reach the spa products aisle. The pine forest is apparently deserted, and the sense of wild animals just beyond the range of vision cannot suggest physical danger but rather a reunion with the spirit realm. The customer is almost ready, they must be clad in towelling robes befitting of their status.
Also fountains. There cannot be too many fountains.
November 17, 2019 Subject:
Never Going Shopping Again
Mr Krishna deals cards from a particular deck of paranoia. The "pleasing" tunes are the stuff of trickery, while the anxiety-laden sonics are practically klaxons. As ever, the technical aspects are top notch, the structures inventive, the delivery sly. 15 bullets sure to give even the most casual consumer pause. "Recommended."